The Parting Shot
by This Is Sarcasm
Summary: [Prequel to Out of Tricks]The Reapers are gone. Shepard is dead. And as Garrus tries to pick up the pieces of himself, and Javik prepares to face the end, fickle fate lands them on the same planet. A 50,000 year old failed mission, and an insane mercenary thought to be dead, have combined into a deadly powder keg that they'll have to work together to defuse. Somehow.
1. Prologue

_There was a lot of blood._

 _As the current Avatar of Truth, Pirsis had seen plenty of messed up things. But the young captain who's mind, memories, and Echo Shard she'd just gone through... well, his appearance spoke for itself; covered head to toe in blood, mud, and dirt. Not an inch of him, skin, mind, or armor, was clean._

 _And yet he just... sat across from her the whole time, hands folded on the table in front of him, casually as if his wrists were not, in fact, bound, as she determined whether his report was true, or if_ he _was the one who'd been indoctrinated._

 _She didn't know what was more disturbing; that he was capable of killing a twenty-one man crew without being injured, that he'd been captaining him for years... or the fact that a twenty-one man crew had all been indoctrinated while their captain had somehow managed to avoid that fate. The implications of_ that _were disturbing, horrific, and troubling. Where and how had they been exposed? And where had their captain been during that time?_

 _"Again; you are certain you can confirm you destroyed the objective successfully?" she asked._

 _"Yes." the young captain said quietly._

What a waste. That technology could have won us the war, or at least given the new Empire an advantage. _If there_ was _a new empire; there was still no telling whether the Avatar of Knowledge's insane cryostasis idea would work._

 _"Then... you are dismissed." she reached over, and deactivated his restraints. He stood. "Report to showers; the results of your mission will be told to command. In the meantime, get some sleep; you are wanted by Kavrok early tomorrow morning."_

 _"What would another Avatar want with me?" though he was covered in blood, she still thought she saw him pale a shade or two. There were only a few reasons for the Avatar of Vengeance to get involved missions gone sour... and punishing kin-slayers was one of them._

 _"You killed the enemy, not other protheans." she assured. "As for what he wants, I do not know. So let me repeat my order; go sleep, Javik."_

* * *

 _There was... a lot of blood._

Oh, spirits above...

 _He was going to yap. It was everywhere, the blood. The floor, the walls(and it wasn't_ just _blood on the walls,_ oh spirits _...), the... the bodies..._

Oh, spirits and stars...

 _"Come on, Nathan; don't you leave that kid!" As a turian, most attempts to resuscitate a human(who in this case was Nathan Butler) would be harried by the complication that the most effective human CPR technique required lips. Which turians didn't have._

 _And Butler had lost too much blood anyway, so why was he even_ trying _?_

 _"G-Garrus?" a shaky voice rasped from the stairway. Shocked into giving up his attempt to revive Butler, the turian looked up to see Sensat peeking downwards, the salarian pale and covered in his own blood, but looking relieved at the sight of his leader._

 _"Sensat!" he jumped to his feet an bolted up the stairs, fumbling for the medigel on his belt. Sensat tried to meet him, but nearly fell into his arms instead. Garrus helped him to one of the couches and started smearing medigel into his wounds, all the while his brain telling him it wouldn't be enough; the salarian was in too bad a shape._

 _But... he had to try. He had to_ try _._

 _"They came out of.. know-where." Sensat grunted as Garrus treated him. "Guerrilla-style attack, took out... Erash and Krul right away, Montegue soon after. They got... ripped apart."_

 _"I saw." was all the turian managed to get out. "Don't talk, save your strength. I've got to get you out of here."_

 _He spent the next ten minutes applying medigel and searching desperately for a safe way out._

 _He didn't find one._

* * *

Why wasn't Javik surprised? The boy had already proven he was too intelligent for his own good(and more so than most primitives he'd met), and he'd had a literal lifetime to study the patterns in his and Garrus' hunt for the Horizon Syndicate.

 _Of course he would come to the conclusion I know more than I tell._

It was an open secret among the Normandy crew that something had happened in the Exodus cluster, two months after the end of the Reaper War, resulting in the loss of Garrus' right leg, the looting of a cache of high-tech prothean weaponry, the exploding of a mountain, an ensuing odd but close kinship between the two of them, and a righting of his own mental state resulting from a literal and figurative ass-kicking from the turian.

And now, Thracius Vakarian, Garrus' son, was standing across from him; arms crossed, stance indicative that he'd give a fight if Javik tried to get out of this, fiery colony markings standing out accusingly, a whole two heads taller than Javik, and very much demanding answers in a confrontation that the prothean would have happily sang,danced, or done any manner of ridiculous things to avoid.

Because this was a story, a very shame-filled one, that he would rather not tell. And yes, he would tell it in words. Because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he didn't want to show anyone his memories of the event. They were things he didn't want anyone to see.

It was already... bad enough. And it was looking like he was going to have to tell. A watered-down version of events, perhaps; just as things had happened on that thrice-cursed planet that Javik considered personal ghosts, there were things that Garrus probably wouldn't want his child to know about him. Huh, that was funny; he'd just made a moral conclusion that the turian would probably actually approve of.

Too bad he wasn't here to see it.

"Well?" _and_ he said it in khelish. Vakarian number two only meant business when he lapsed into khelish. Javik sighed.

"This... will take very long."

* * *

 _And here you have the prologue for The Parting Shot. This is the prequel for Out of Tricks. It will follow a once-a-month update pattern like Losing Time, Taking My Own Way Down. It will be long, with some scenes of heavy violence, and an attempt at suicide near the end. Be forewarned; this is not a happy story, even if the ending does lead to positive things. These characters are basically doing self-surgery; this takes place right after the Reaper War, and everybody is messed up inside. They need to let it all out._

 _There will be blood, angst, and massive explosions for the sake of massive explosions. There will be existential crisis with a side order of violent unpredictability. To quote Lemony Snicket: "This is a very tragic story with no happy beginning and no happy end, and very few happy things in between."_

 _There will also be a pineapple joke. You know how I work._

 _Fare Thee Well._


	2. The Opposite Agendas

_"I'm sure that was an aspirin I took this morning."  
_

 _-Col. Jack O'Neill_

* * *

A Super Long Time Ago(2186)

Sol System

Two Months After The Crucible Fired

Garrus woke with a scream, and charged out of bed. He tripped on the covers, and his vision went black for several seconds when his head slammed on the corner of the side table on his way down. His cot tipped over on top of him, and a glass of water shattered on the floor with a crash.

"Stars, Garrus!" Ashley exclaimed from the other side of the room.

"Yup, definitely seeing those..." he groaned, clutching his head.

"Keelah, are you alright?" he flinched at Tali's inquiry. He'd had trouble looking her in the eye recently. He rolled, pushed the cot off of him angrily, and tried to disentangle himself from the blankets, talons ripping fabric and a shard of glass pressing painfully into his shoulder.

"Whoa, Scars! Need some help there?" James asked, leaning down. Garrus jerked his arm out of the Human's grasp, finally freeing himself.

"I'm fine!" he snapped, fighting to his feet, ignoring the pain smarting through his new and minor injuries. Minor compared to what he'd suffered a clean year ago...

He shook his head, and stormed off through the halls of the ruined old tower they'd been relegated to. The entire city of London was still a ruin, and would be for a while. He and the rest of the crew, ground team included, had been bunking in two large rooms filled with cots. The walls were cracked, but it was the most structurally sound building in the city at this point, and it had served as the launch point for the final attack, so it was definitely reliable.

As for why they were stuck in a ruined building instead of their ship, the Normandy had barely made it back to earth in one piece, and only just a week ago. She was a mess and needed more repairs before anyone could go home.

 _Home._ Not 'military ship' or 'tip of the spear for a galactic war' but 'home'. That was what the Normandy was, what it had almost always been, to him. Garrus Vakarian was a very bad turian. He'd directly disobeyed his father, chased after a Specter, nearly became one himself, left service before he was thirty, became a vigilante, lost _everything_ -

 _Don't think about them. Not yet._ Let's not forget helping to cure the genophage! Even during C-Sec, and his stint on a turian ship, he hadn't gotten along well with other members of his species. He was, to use a human term, a bit of a black sheep. The Normandy was the only place he'd ever felt like he belonged, perfectly and completely, not a round block in a square hole, but a round block in a round hole. _Not the only place._

There was once a team, his team, and they were-

 _Dead._ _Stop._

He staggered out into the open early morning. Even now, there was concrete dust in the air, and he brought his shirt up to cover his mouth as he took several deep breaths to try to calm his rapidly-beating heart. The wind still smelled like death and rotting corpses, and one or two felled Reapers, filled with holes from ship fire, were laying among the ruins of London. Even though he hadn't looked at a calendar in a while, Garrus knew what day it was. He could feel it in his gizzard.

Today was one year to the hour Sensat died in his arms, and marked the single greatest failure of his entire life; the deaths of his crew on Omega. Sidnonis' betrayal, like a knife straight to the heart. He could feel it cutting anew, and that was how he could tell what day it was. That and the fact he'd dreamed of them again, only this time Shepard was among the dead.

 _Shepard._ That wound was still fresh, and the thought of him made Garrus' gizzard twist and roil. Johnathan Shepard had been his best friend, the closest thing he ever had to a brother. And two months ago, he sacrificed himself to save them all, by replacing the Reaper master AI with his own mind, and sending the Reapers into a black hole.

He would never see Shepard again. Hearing what had happened... it had almost been as bad as when his mother died. Right now, Solana and his father were probably a galaxy away, if they were even alive at all. Tali kept trying to help, but by trying to be something he wasn't sure he wanted. Everyone he loved, everyone he cared about, kept paying that price called 'death', and if he let himself love her as more than the friend she'd been for the past few years...

He was afraid of what would happen. And he'd been lashing out, at everyone. The best thing to do would be to push them all away, so it wouldn't hurt as much. But he knew that wasn't what Shepard would want, and it was eating him apart, indecision waring with certainty inside of him. Stay or go? To be, or not to be? Love, or let go?

He brought up his omnitool. He hadn't shot Sidnonis. Shepard wouldn't let him(to think, he'd been so mad at that human for convincing him to let Lantar slither away). But the part of his dream, the part that had woken him, was the face not of his betrayer, but his intended murderer. The sight of the missile rushing towards him, the feeling of making a stim-hopped poor decision to roll out of cover at exactly the wrong moment. The blast of agony as the projectile made contact.

He hadn't been asleep long enough to hear or see Tarak go down in his dream. He looked at his messages. At the one with a reluctantly-attached file that a reluctant Liara had sent him. Very reluctantly.

But now... he knew that piece of slime had managed to crawl away alive. That Tarak had lived. And that he was planning something big, in the newly-accessible Exodus Cluster. A saying of Butler's came to mind.

 _"Like a batarian in a room full of humans."_ Or, a murdering, insane batarian in a system of Humans, some of them on still-helpless colonies, trying to rebuild the simplest of structures. People who were practically helpless; he couldn't let his mistake hurt them. He couldn't.

And maybe if he succeeded in saving them... it wouldn't be a lie to say he was fine.

* * *

It would be a lie to say Javik was fine.

Nothing was 'fine' when you were the last of your kind, surrounded by lesser-developed species, your purpose fulfilled, your head bursting with agonizing memories of the people you had lost, and, to top it off, the ability to read minds or the status of objects with a mere touch in an environment filled with fear, pain, and all kinds of general mental 'noise' that gave one a headache bordering on a severe migraine.

It _wouldn't_ be a lie to say Javik was dangerously close to snapping the neck of the next primitive that gawked at him. If he wasn't about to take his own life, he'd have stooped to using one of those vile tactical cloaks long ago, just for some privacy. It was getting _seriously_ annoying. And although T'Soni was now... more _bearable_ that she had been, the rest of the crew were much the same, save for the turian(who had been in a foul and indecisive mood for months now). The Vega human was still easy to confuse, the machine was still horrible, the quarian was still smitten with Vakarian, and 'Specter Williams' was still making misguided attempts to befriend him(which were far less successful than the turian's; not to say the turian had had ANY measure of success, as a prothean did not befriend primitives).

"Do not make another attempt to persuade me, asari." he said, though not turning away from the window. Strangely enough, earth's sunsets looked quite similar to descriptions of the sunsets that his people's homeworld encountered. Not that it mattered. "I have already decided my fate."

It had been a mistake to tell her his plans. At least he'd convinced her not to blab to the other primitives. He'd leave without telling them, and hopefully his disappearance would remain a mystery to them.

"I wasn't planning on it." T'Soni said quietly. "I just wanted to tell you... you should just... Go. Go tonight before-"

He looked at her when she cut herself off. "Before what? Speak up."

"Garrus might be planning something. It's personal." she didn't offer any more details.

"Very well." he looked back out the window, and she walked away. It wasn't like he'd see this view again. Sunsets were a strange, fickle thing, that brought sudden thoughts to mind. "T'Soni."

The retreating footsteps halted. "Yes?"

"My shard may be among the Commander's personal effects. Feel free to... study it." everything in him protested this idea. The shard was a sacred thing, and here he was giving it to a primitive. But it wasn't like he'd be needing it later. "And inform... Vakarian that he still favors his right in hand to hand. He should have his leg examined once more."

It had been broken when the Normandy crashed; the turian still had a faint limp.

"Okay. I'll tell him that." she said softly. She started walking again.

* * *

"And just where do you think you're going?" _Thresher spit._ Garrus froze. He turned around guiltily to look at Tali. She stood with her arms crossed and her hip cocked in that 'I have a shotgun' way.

"Uh..." he found his mouth was dry. Well, drying than usual; he was a turian, after all. "Out?"

"In winter gear?" she asked skeptically. "With a Cain?"

"There's something have have to take care of. It's... well, it's personal." he turned his back on her. She grabbed his elbow.

"I know what day it is, Garrus." she hissed. He stopped again. "Keelah, please tell me you're not about to do something stupid!"

"What I'm about to do is none of your business." he told her icily, prying her hand off his arm.

"It is if we-if it's dangerous." she corrected hastily. "Garrus, you wouldn't let any of us go off and fight alone, would you?"

"Liara knows, and that's enough. The Cain is just in case. This... personal." he looked away. "I don't want any of you getting caught in the middle."

"So you're trusting Liara with this, and not me?" And _this_ was why they should have just stayed friends.

"It's not that I don't trust _you_ , Tals." he sighed. "I don't trust myself. Just... I need to do this alone. I'll be back before you leave for Rannoch."

"Can you promise that?" she accused. "Going alone, can you promise me without a shadow of a doubt that you'll be back?"

"I promise." he lied. He didn't really know what he would find. He tried to crack his cockiest smirk. "I'll be back. Probably before dinner, even; it's just a quick hop to the Exodus Cluster, and there are loads of Alliance going through there recently. What's the worst that could happen?"

* * *

It had been easy enough getting access to the only available shuttle. Well, the only one that was supposedly space-worthy. Actually, it was suspiciously easy, and he suspected the asari had a hand in it.

He was certain to leave under cover of night, and managed to avoid all of the spotlights without trouble. Normally he might have gone and berated whoever was in charge on the lax security measures of this cycle, but it wasn't as if it was his problem, nor would it ever be. So Javik merely continued on his way, until he got to the makeshift hangar that had been set up, and noticed the door had been forced open.

Priming a biotic attack in one hand, he entered, and made his way to the shuttle without incident. But when he tried to key in the access code, the strangest thing happened; he heard the door on the other side of the Kodiak open before he finished. He slunk around the back of the shuttle, and he heard footsteps making their own way around towards him. He pulled back his fist and-

Let it drop back to his side when Vakarian turned the corner, his own fist raised with omnitool sparking. The turian let out an annoyed huff and deactivated his weapon.

"Really?" it was less of a question and more of a statement.

"I require this shuttle." Javik told him.

"Yeah, well I need it, too."

"For what?"

"None of your business. What do you need it for?"

"None of your concern."

"Guess that makes us even. But I have a job to do."

"Would it involve the Exodus Cluster?" Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because the primitive's ice-colored eyes hardened, the pupils pinning. The crest on his head spiked up slightly.

" _Spirits_ , Liara! I told her it was nothing!" he exclaimed. He glared at Javik. "Look, you can go tell her I don't need help! I'm perfectly capable of doing this by myself, I don't need a babysitter!"

"The asari did not send me." _This is... interesting._ He certainly wasn't going to reveal his own reasons for leaving.

"Then tell it to Tali; you're not coming with me." the turian turned away, and Javik followed, taking note in the change of armor. Rather than the heavy plating he was accustomed to seeing Vakarian in, this armor was light, with plating on the shoulders and sides and heavy padding everywhere else, along with a cloak-like attachment with a hood that was partially attached to the shoulder pads. Wherever he was going, the weather was cold; so cold he was favoring lighter but warmer armor over protection from bullets.

"I have my own... business to attend to in that region of space." Javik said. "I was not 'sent' by anyone. You could simply deliver me and leave me to my own devices."

"Yeah, and where are you going?" Vakarian demanded, hopping up into the shuttle.

"The fourth planet from the red dwarf star next to-"

"Yeah, you're not coming." The door slammed shut. Shocked, Javik pounded on the metal.

"I need to go! NOW!" he yelled, furious. How _dare_ that turian! He'd done daring things to Javik before(like pushing him off a cliff and onto a shuttle), but slamming a door in his face? This was the final straw! He was _through_ with this primitive! "I am going to make you suffer a fate worse than death if you do not let me enter!"

"Make me!" came the reply. Javik's hands twitched. The only thing keeping him from biotically ripping the shuttle apart right now was the fact he needed it in working condition.

"I will stay in the shuttle." he said through grit teeth. It was a lie, of course; he'd leave while the turian was busy and do the deed. "I will stay in the shuttle while you conduct your... mission, and then I will do my own."

He couldn't believe he was bargaining with a primitive. Oh, how the mighty had fallen!

The engines started up. He didn't want to have to wait for another shuttle, he was done _now_. He slammed his fist on the side of the Kodiak once more. it slid open and Vakarian glared at him.

"Get in; but you're waiting in orbit while I do this. No arguments. Are we clear?" he demanded. He'd become more volatile since the Commander died; more demanding.

"Fine." Javik agreed, jaw clenched. It looked like his final journey wouldn't be as quiet as he'd hoped it would be.

* * *

Garrus and Javik didn't speak to each other for the entire flight. He was almost certain that Liara had sent the prothean under guise of some sort of 'business', no matter how much Javik protested it to be untrue.

So, he turned on his visor, listened to his music, and for the most part let silence reign in the cabin. His thoughts drifted to Tali, and Shepard. They kept trying to drift to Butler's young son, left fatherless, or Erash, who's life had been cut incredibly short, so he did his best to focus on Tali, and how Band of Horses' song 'I like to go to the Barn Because of The' made such a great metaphor.

He was, indeed a mess. And since she admitted to her feelings for him, he'd started to feel them back, but when you were a mess... well, messes didn't deserve to be loved by people like Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. He didn't deserve her. He could only hope that one day he'd be so confident to think he was a 'mess she'd wear with pride' like the man in the song liked to think his lady did.

The way things were going, that seemed to be a bleak and distant future bound not to exist, because what was the point of having a wedding if you didn't have a best man? When there was a hole as big as that missing from your life... how could things between him and Tali ever work out when the crew seemed to be disintegrating all around them without Shepard? He'd been the glue that held them together, and now he was gone.

The ground team might still be together, for the most part. But Liara had her own ship; she'd found Feron, and the two of them mostly stayed up there. Chakwas had joined them. The general crew that helped operate the Normandy were scattered now; some were working on repairing the mighty frigate, others were trying to help with other things. Ashley spent most of her time doing Specter duties, just trying to keep people decent, trying to keep order in a sea that was still chaos in the wake of the war.

The Kodiak's control console beeped at him, and he gave a start before realizing they were pulling into orbit of the planet known as Frigus. To the best of his knowledge, it was an old human word that had something to do with low temperatures. Fitting, too, since his business was in the mountains. Half the planet was icy mountains, and the other half was harsh jungles. It was a popular hideout for the unwanted crowd, since the Alliance hadn't wanted to contend with the unpredictable weather of the place.

He began to direct the Kodiak's descent, and he glanced over at Javik for the first time since they left. The last prothean sat with his arms crossed, and one set of eyes closed, his knife in one fist, but his posture too relaxed for someone who was expecting an attack. More like he was considering the weapon, rather than anticipating it's use, if the way one finger was stroking the handle was anything to go by. If he was attacked, he could adjust his grip, but his counter would be sloppy, and that wasn't very in character of him. Nor was sentimentality of a blade; then again, it could be some weird prothean thing.

"I'll be back in an hour. Don't leave the damn ship." he told his companion, standing and stretching his legs before retrieving his rifle from where he'd propped it up in the corner. He checked it. It wasn't his HMWSR, the one he'd had since the hunt for Saren. The one Shepard had gifted him. This was a Viper, not exactly the best thing on the market; but he'd take what he could get, so a Viper it was.

"And if you do not return in an hour?" Javik asked.

"Then send a message to Liara; 'parting shot fired'. She'll know what it means." he said gruffly. "Do _not_ come after me, unless I call for backup."

"Very well. And when you return, I shall do what I came here to do." whatever _that_ was. _Probably more weird prothean stuff._

The Kodiak beeped at him, and he returned to the controls. They were coming in a little too hot.

"Grab on to something; it's about to get bumpy." he warned. He wasn't the best pilot in the galaxy, but he knew how fly a Kodiak. Who didn't these days? Headwinds and turbulence still made the ride through the atmosphere less than pleasant, and in the corner of his vision, he saw Javik tense up as he usually did. He'd said something once about 'all these primitives flying' being very 'concerning'. To Garrus, it had sounded like a roundabout way of expressing newly obtained flight nerves.

He couldn't fault the prothean for it; he'd be nervous too, if he had to fly in the ships of strange species who had, last he checked, been in the early stages of civilization. For all he knew, the Kodiak looked like the space equivalent to a rickety old boat, as far as Javik was concerned.

Of course, rickety old boat or not, it still flew off course when you shot at it.

Which is exactly what someone hiding in the storm did as the shuttle cleared the worst of the cloud cover.

" _Really_? Oh, for the love of-hold on!" Garrus sent the Kodiak into a spin, but his attacker had an unshakable lock on poor shuttle. Dammit, he should have been more careful! He hadn't expected them to have sensors; nobody had working sensors these days! Most people were still getting grids up and running again, after the mild EMP the Crucible had fired(frying a good deal of tech, Mass Relays included).

The Kodiak shook, Javik yelled, and Garrus sent the shuttle towards the ground. he could only try his best to land at this point, or at least make the crash less of a health risk.

"Brace yoursel-" something exploded, he lost control, and consciousness soon after as something violent happened.

* * *

 _Just thought I'd get you started with the first chapter, since the prologue wasn't much to look at. Expect the next update around this time next month. So, I present to you; grimdark with a side order of angst, and a light sprinkling of humor, because Garrus might be grumpy right now, but he's still Garrus._

 _seabo76: Sure you can handle it? My clanmate has told me I'm a bit of a sadist when I venture outside the fluff and humor department..._

 _Band of Horses' "I Like to Go to the Barn Because of The" played during the finale of Psych's fourth season. Upon hearing the whole thing, I couldn't help thinking about Garrus and Tali. He_ is _a bit of a mess._

 _Look forwards to next month, the real adventure begins..._

 _Fare Thee Well!_


	3. A Brutal Reprise

_"Just a couple of victims of this brutal reprise..."_

 _Go to the Light- By Murder by Death_

* * *

Garrus gasped in pain when awareness returned in a snap, crying out when he registered the full extent of the agony his right leg was in; something was burning through his armor. Shoving hot metal off of himself, he tried to pull the limb free to to avail. The sheet of metal that was pinning it down was, indeed, on fire,and cutting into his armor. Blue blood seeped from the injury, staining the gray padding that was _supposed_ to protect his leg, and adding an evil glint to the metal that was cutting his flesh.

To top it all off, everything else was on fire, too. He shoved at the metal, clenching his jaw as more pain shuddered up his hands and left wrist, witch was also bleeding, though more so than his leg. He felt like he'd been beaten half to death, which all but solidified his opinion of winter gear. _Crappy with a side order of crappy._ He shook his head and pushed harder, deciding that he must have hit his head harder than he thought. _No duh, genius! You're in a shuttle crash!_

"Vakarian!"

"Here!" his response was slow, not used to hearing Javik using anybody's name, except for Shepard's on the rarest of occasions, and Liara's later on. But really, he could care less at the moment.

Mostly because he was _this_ close to becoming a turian steak, well-done, drizzled in cruel fate and lightly seasoned with irony, with just a pinch of failure for added flavor.

The prothean came in beside him, shoving metal aside, and removed the debris pinning his leg with a flick of biotics. _Wouldn't it be nice if my life was that simple?_ Just a twitch of the wrist and *poof*- problem solved!

"We must leave!" Javik grabbed him by the arm(which hurt tremendously), and practically dragged him away from the wreckage. _No shit, Sherlock!_ Garrus thought with all his might, knowing Javik would hear the remark because of his contact telepathy. Sense. Thingy.

Yup, he'd really scrambled his brains this time. Scrambled them like a bilgesnipe egg-

The shuttle's explosion sent them flying, the sharp smell of ozone reminding him Javik's biotic barrier was the only reason he didn't get impaled, scorched to a crisp, blasted to bits, or whatever other pleasantness that would have happened otherwise.

When his head stopped ringing, he rolled over on his back, and sat up to look at the wreckage. He glanced at Javik, who was still brushing snow off his shoulder plates and looking very irritated, and anger started bubbling up, right from the marrow of his bones.

"Grand. Just grand fun for everyone!" he fumed, staggering to his feet. He was sore all over, but the only major pain was in his leg. "Stupid f*&^^# S# *! Once, just ONCE can the freaking galaxy not be against me!?"

"Yelling at the continuum will not change our situation." Javik told him. Garrus rounded on him.

"You!" he pointed one talon in accusation. "Why couldn't you just wait for another shuttle, huh? This is _exactly_ why I didn't want anyone following me!"

"You are-" the prothean was cut off by the sound of engines- engines that were too close for comfort. An Eclipse fighter rose above the smoke, and guns primed in their direction. Reflexively, he reached over his back to grab his rifle, only to find it gone. Likely melted in the explosion.

"Run!" he shouted, eyes scanning the open area for any kind of salvation. _There._ He felt like his brain was firing too fast for his mind to keep up, and the jagged outcroppings only _looked_ like shelter; for all he knew he was heading for a deathtrap. But hey; if Javik was making a be-line for it too, it had to be a chance. Bullets skipped the ground and kicked up snow, and Javik ran with one hand raised, the prothean's biotics the only thing between them and becoming swiss cheese.

But of course, his initial worries about their target shelter being a deathtrap had to be proved true! The moment he tried to stop, his bad leg gave out, and he tripped on icy rock. Javik snagged the cloak attachment of his winter gear, and Garrus twisted to try to get a grip on the cliff. Ice and snow broke off of everywhere he tried to put weight on, and the rocks were either too icy or too smother to be of much use. Javik kept a firm grip on his cloak, but was otherwise too focused on the barrier to pull him up; his footing was also starting to slip.

Garrus glanced down. It was a far drop, but with biotics on their side, it might be survivable. "Jump!"

"What?" the prothean gave him one of his patented 'you primitives are idiots' look.

"Make it look like you slip! Trust me, I'm an expert at this kind of thing!"

"At idiotic plans?"

"At faking my death."

At that, he reached up, and yanked Javik's arm, pulling him off balance and over the edge.

* * *

One moment, he was preparing to launch a biotic wave at the attacking gunship and prove no such idiotic plan was needed. The next, the turian was pulling him off the cliff.

"YOU IDIOT!" he had half the mind not to use his biotics to stop their fall. It would be payback to the turian, and he himself wouldn't have to go through the trouble of convincing the sniper to let him about his business. But he supposed that would be too easy, and as much as he loathed Garrus' actions, he'd rather not have any more allies die on this planet in particular.

Besides; now he was curious.

The ground approached fast, so fast he almost had no time. It didn't help that the whole world was just a blaze of white. Javik shoved his hands out, throwing all his energy into _stopping_. He made sure the blast of energy was wide enough to catch the turian as well, and hitting the ground was like a slap. A slap made of pure cold, wet unpleasantness, and he _hated_ it! Humid, hot, wet, or cold, he could deal with, but snow was cold _and_ wet, and there was no worse combination. It was like the white powder had been invented just to annoy him.

He dug himself out, throwing snow in annoyed showers across the area he'd landed in. He'd only just managed to extract himself completely, when Vakarian tackled him and shoved him back into the white fluff. He shouted, trying to shove the turian off as he buried them both in snow.

"Shut up, Javik, they're looking for us!" he stilled, and true enough, the sound of a gunship passing overhead filled the air. Squirming in the uncomfortable space, Javik shuttered inwardly as _snow_ slipped under the weave he wore under his armor, cold and slimy against his skin. _SNOW!_ Oh, how he _hated_ it.

As soon as the gunship had passed, he shoved the turian off of him.

"Do you take pleasure in humiliating me, turian?" he demanded, sheathing as he tried to dig snow out of his armor. It was melting, and it was perfectly horrible. _This would make a perfect form of torture. I should remember that._ Well... it wasn't like he was going to need any torture techniques later, since he would be dead, but at least he could say he'd learned something new.

"Well, you have to admit, it is kind of fun." Vakarian shrugged. "And I've never really jumped off a cliff before, so that's one thing off my bucket list."

"You are _unbearably_ immature." Javik glared at him.

"Yeah, well, get used to it." the turian tossed his head arrogantly and limped to the edge of the overlook. He felt something inside him twist. This looked too familiar... surely not?

He stepped forwards to get a better view.

"Looks like Tarak and his men have set up down there." the turian observed. "I knew they were on the planet, but not where exactly. Guess my dumb luck strikes again."

"So it seems." Javik muttered. The landscape had changed drastically in the last fifty thousand years, but he would know this place anywhere... even after he'd shot it to oblivion from orbit. A prothean never forgot what a mission objective looked like, and one of the mountains, though larger than it had been, still matched the basic profile it had had when he first touched down on this miserable rock...

With his crew in tow.

 _Impossible! I thought I destroyed this place..._ But there they were, the primitives that had just tried to kill him had set up some sort of excavation site. He could only hope the entire facility had collapsed when he fired on it from orbit, but even that didn't guarantee there wasn't still technology that could be salvaged. The old mission objective rang through his head, clear as day, for the first time in ages:

" _Draw off Reaper forces at any cost. Secure the bunker, and if all else fails, destroy it to prevent it's fall into Reaper hands. They must not know of the technology we were building."_

It had been the promise of a high-tech bunker stuffed to the landing zones with new weapons that could turn the tide of their fight with the Reapers. And he had failed; his crew had turned out indoctrinated, and he had proceeded to bombard the facility as according to his instructions.

The mountains range still bore the marks of his failure.

" _Someone_ messed this place up a long time ago." the turian commented, snapping him out of his dark reverie. "Looks like Tarak's gone digging for gold."

Javik simply stared at him.

"It's just an expression." he clarified, waving one hand and looking back out at the area. "We're going to need a closer look at that place."

"I have an idea of what we might be facing." he might as well be honest... to an extent. Vakarian looked at him in surprise. "Your cycle has an interest in artifacts of my people? There was a base on this planet. I only saw it once, but they could be interested in it's remnants."

Vakarian blanched as much as any turian could, and swore loudly, looking back at the excavation site. "This is worse than I thought. Tarak running around with plasma lasers? No thank-you."

"Am I correct to assume you know this 'Tarak' individual?" a dark look crossed the turian's face. No, not dark; 'dark' didn't even begin to describe it.

"No, I don't 'know' him. But I know what he can do. And if I hadn't made certain mistakes, he'd be dead and we wouldn't be having this problem." He glared at the dig site. "Liara picked him up on her radar, and I insisted on taking him down."

"And the reason you did not want backup? Only a fool runs into battle without allies." the turian's actions made no sense. He had proven before that he was a wise tactician, so why would he plan to do something so incredibly _stupid_? _Who are you to judge? You came here to_ die _._ He shook the line of thought off before it could continue.

"Tarak killed my team because of my mistake." the words were a worse cold snap than the icy weather. "And if there's one thing Shepard taught me, it's that you should clean up your own messes. I'm here to clean up my mess, and I didn't want to risk anyone else. This guy isn't just your normal level of 'bad person'. He's a cannibal, a murderer, and an insane sociopath with a side order of _actually_ crazy."

He fixed Javik with a hard stare. "Would _you_ take that risk?"

"Your plan is still stupid." he settled with, unable to come up with anything better to say. "And your arm is still bleeding."

"You know what? I still have the cain!" the turian threw his hands up in surrender. "Come if you want, but please try not to get yourself killed? I've seen what this guy does to 'exotic specimens'."

"And exactly what does he do?" Javik asked sceptically.

"Ever heard of a taxidermy?"

* * *

"So, this facility you were talking about? Any back doors, secret entrances, the like?" Garrus asked as they picked their way down the mountain. He'd slapped medigel on his wrist, and the bleeding on his leg had stopped. His omnitool had blown up in the crash. His _omnitool_. No sniper rifle, and no omnitool; his day just got better and better. He was lucky the cain hadn't exploded between all the action. To make matters worse, now he _had_ to take Javik with him. He felt like he was marching the prothean to his grave.

It didn't help that a blizzard had started to pick up. They were walking under an overhang, but it only helped so much.

"Do not be so stupid. Why would we need a secret entrance?" the sniper rolled his eyes. _Typical Javik._ There had been a strange moment, though, back on the overlook, as if the prothean had seen a ghost. He had schooled his features quickly, but the look had been there.

"So covert ops could get in and out without anyone above their pay grade knowing." It would make sense; the protheans would have had a ranked information system to hinder indoctrinated infiltrators.

"We did not have 'pay grades'." Javik called back to him. "But there may be a hangar entrance in the side of the mountain."

"'May be'?" Garrus shook his head. "I need a 'there most certainly is an entrance in the side of the mountain', not a 'there may be'. How do you this place even exists if you've never been here long enough to see the entrance?"

"I was briefed on it." the avatar answered icily.

The ice creaked ominously.

"Crap." Garrus said as the ground shifted beneath him. He was waist-deep in snow. Could his day get any worse?

Apparently, yes, it could. The(glacier, cliff, cheapskate path, or whatever it classified as) fell out from beneath him. Biotics threw him forwards, nearly face-first into the snow on the other side of the break before he could fall. He rolled over just in time to see Javik jump across with his biotics.

"You should watch your footing." He commented after he landed, making no move to help his companion up. Garrus rolled his eyes.

"I don't know about you, but I choose to blame nature on this one. Stupid nature, stop getting in my way!" he jested as he tried to get upright in the meter-deep snow. The stuff was everywhere, and as much as he hated the winter gear, but the environmental control made things a little less miserable. But only a little; it was still freeze-your-fringe-off cold, and his leg was throbbing.

"We should find some place to hole up until this passes." He called. "Storm's getting worse!"

Javik looked him straight in the eye and replied with the blankest of faces "No shit Sherlock."

Garrus' jaw dropped to the ground. Javik just... _joked_? He scrambled to hit the recording feature on his visor. He needed video evidence.

"Did you just use a figure of speech? Did you just make a joke!? Oh my spirits, _you_ used a swear word! Are you sure you're feeling alright?" he hounded. Oh, there was no _way_ he was letting this go!

The prothean made a look that clearly expressed he regretted opening his mouth. "Yes, yes, yes, and no; I am currently freezing to death on a forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere. Why would I feel well?"

"There's a cave over there with our names on it!" he pointed at said cave, which was roughly thirty or so meters ahead.

"I do not see any names carved on it."

"Another figure of speech! You know, like the one you just said!"

The prothean muttered something in his native language that might have been something along the lines of 'just kill me now'. _Maybe if I annoy him bad enough, he'll stay in the cave while I do my thing._ Yes, that seemed like a pretty solid plan. Anything to keep his sort-of-friend as far away from Tarak as possible.

Yes, that's what he would do; he would convince Javik to stay in the cave. That was as solid of a plan he could think of.

* * *

 _I know this was unbearably late, but things happen... including the trailer for D2's Forsaken expansion. As excited as I am for flying void Titan sawblades and invisible tanto-dancer Nightstalkers, seeing Cayde go is going to be HARD. Also, the song in that trailer was really great, there was nothing more appropriate they could have chosen._

 _Which is why I chose a line from it was the chapter quote, it's just that good a song, I seriously suggest it._

 _seabo76: Commencing; bringing it on._

 _Well, here's to hope I get some more reviews this time. And yes, I originally indented this to be a bit darker than my other stuff, but I figured there should be some of the typical Javik and Garrus humor before we get to the serious bits. Because admit it; these two make quite the double act in certain circumstances. If you think Garrus seems a little too OOC, this is just his way of handling someone like Javik. The guy had a very diverse team on omega, so I like to give him ways to show exactly how he got those people to get along together._

 _Well, other than that, I can say to expect an Out of Tricks update soon._

 _Fare Thee Well!_


End file.
